How Writing Works For Me

Thursday night I read a poem in the Point Arena open mic that included a green M&M. Friday morning I found this one in the parking lot of our dock. Friday night at Nomadic’s open mic I heard a poem with the word quixotic written by my friend Linda. Saturday morning over coffee, I read a poem by Kay Ryan in the the book The Jam Jar Lifeboat which included the word quixotic. Quixotic. I’ve been told I write about the quotidian. Quotidian. An extraordinary word for the ordinary. But as you can see, even the ordinary is extraordinary. Quixotic. I left the green M&M on the asphalt where it had come to rest, and watched a feather adrift in the breeze, softly alighting on the surface of the bay. This day afloat.